Pet Cemetery
by Dawn Stag
Summary: AU Harleen Quinzel wasn't in The Dark Knight, which raises the question: Whatever happened to the Harley Quinn?


**Disclaimer:** As much as I wish to have created the Batman universe, the cleverest of modern men Bob Kane got there before me. The DC Powers of Be own everything, I'm just playing with their property until they tell me off ; )

A/N: "Pet Cemetery" is set at some point after TDK- I'd say quite a while after to be honest. It's probably more a T than an M but I know some folks are sensitive and wouldn't necessarily enjoy this and I didn't fancy giving the game away in the summary, hence a high rating just to be on the safe side.

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**Pet Cemetery **

By DawnStag

He hadn't meant to, he really hadn't. But sometimes you can't help forget what you are supposed to do if unforeseeable events – and opportunities – just so happen to cross your path _before_ you get the chance to do the aforementioned tasks you were meant to get done. Being thrown in Arkham hadn't helped of course, delaying what he'd needed to do even longer which made things just that little _darn_ bit harder to apologise for. Of course he wouldn't mention the fact he hadn't remembered what he needed to do until that morning; nearly a full four weeks after his escape and only because he saw something that reminded him of her.

And thusly reminded him what he was supposed to have done a long time ago.

He wasn't sure if she'd be cross after his long absence or happy to see him, and if he was honest the whole question was delightful to ponder. Perhaps she would force him to endure an emotional tirade concerning his accidental abandonment of her; he wasn't quite sure how he felt about that but thoughts of what he could do to shut her up flashed happily through his mind. Especially the not so nice things that were more fun for him even if she didn't seem to enjoy them as much.

Oh well, she'd get over it eventually.

He had thought about doing something conventional to appease her, like buying flowers. For some reason Harley liked conventional, whilst he couldn't help but find it boring and unnecessary. He hadn't bought flowers, no surprise there, deciding she wasn't really the sort of girl worthy of a bunch of expensive weeds that would more than likely make her think they were some sort of "couple" again. He shuddered at that, romance wasn't his sort of thing and Harley was the last girl he'd consider _dating_.

Yeah, she was fun. But she was fun because she was weak minded and easily led which made life that little bit more interesting. She was his main source of entertainment when he had nothing else to do; that was it, nothing more and nothing less. He didn't need her, but it was better to have her around than not; she fascinated him as much she annoyed him, and he couldn't help but wonder why or how she did that. She was one of the few things in the world he just didn't get, she was a twisted little Rubik's cube that he just couldn't match up and as much as he wanted to waste her sometimes, his inquisitive brain wouldn't let him do it. This was probably why he was currently on his way to retrieve his little Harley Quinn back into his service. That or he'd finally gone cuckoo.

He knocked heavily on the metal door three times, the echo of his gloved fist on the steel rippling down the cold and empty corridor either side of him. Ear pressed against the door, he waited to hear the sound of feet pattering across the floor on the other side, her excited giggle at knowing he'd come back. Neither came, he frowned petulantly.

"Ha_aaaaaaaaaarrleeeey!_" He called out. "Ha_aaaaaaarleey Quinn_-zel!"

Nothing. Frown deepening, he straightened himself and pulled a bunch of keys from his pocket.

It was just down right rude, ignoring him like that. With a grunt he unlocked the door, pushing with all his body weight to open it enough to allow him entrance into the room. It appeared that the hinges had rusted something awful while he'd been away; he'd have to do something about that when he got the time.

The room was very much the same as when he had last left it. He'd made sure Harley had had an abode fit for a lady before he left for his business in Gotham City. Everything was red, black or white – her favourite colours. Mountains of teddy bears, toy clowns and china dolls were heaped throughout the room and as he moved inside he picked a delicately walked path between them. He didn't notice her goldfish floating upside down, semi decayed in the bowl by her bed; or the curled up corpse of the tabby kitten he'd gotten her as a distraction when he'd left. However, he did notice the funny smell that lingered in the air. A smell he knew all too well but had never connected with his little porcelain woman.

"H_aar_ley?" He said her name again, but she didn't appear. If she kept behaving like she was he was going to get angry. As the keys were put in his pocket, a switchblade came out in their place.

"I hope you're not _hiding_ from me Har_ley_…" He warned in a sing-song voice.

A glimpse of a figure through the heavy red drapes separating the main room from her dressing room caught his eye. His mouth stretched unnaturally into an obscene smile, a hand threw open a drape effortlessly whilst the other put the knife back where it had come from.

"_There_ you are my dove."

She did not react to his arrival; instead she remained hunched over her dressing table, her face hidden even in the reflection from the mirror by her thick blonde ringlets. After a few moments of silence, he sighed, frowned and drew his face into an expression as close to serious as he could get.

"Now I don'_t_ think there's any need to be so imma-_ture_ do you?"

Once again, nothing. He stepped forward behind her, dark eyes roaming over the expanse of lily white skin of her back, the laces of her corset half undone. Perhaps if he was helpful for once she'd act like a good girl. She liked dressing up but quite often she'd find herself unable to master her fancy dresses without a little help which was surprising in his eyes, for such a classy broad. The black satin laces were slippery in his big fingers; he tugged with quite possibly unnecessary force as he continued to speak to her. Harley's only movements came from his pulling at her strings, her head and torso flopping several inches off the table before thudding back down onto the polished mahogany moments later.

"Don'_t_ be _mad_ Har-leen, I came back just like I, uh, said I would…didn'_t_ I?" He pleaded remarkably uncharacteristically. She was no fun when she was in this sort of mood, perhaps she required an incentive. He sighed and rolled his eyes dramatically.

"How abou_t_ a puppy? You _want_ a _puppy_ Har-leen?" She did not reply even to that, his surprise quickly transformed into frustration, and then, anger. "You could _at _leasst _LOOK_ a_t_ me Haar-ley; there's no _neeed_ to be so _rude_!"

Harleen remained resting against the wood. He growled deeply in his throat.

"LOOK AT ME!!!" He roared, grabbing her roughly by a bare shoulder, gripping so tightly that he was vaguely aware of the snap of bone beneath his hand.

Harleen's head lolled backwards when her back met the support of the chair, the only barrier between her and him. Blue eyes stared up at him, glazed over and lacking the sparkle they had always held. Her cracked lips were dried and parted; her skin sallow and shrunken against her skull despite the wrinkles around her eyes and mouth. The veins beneath the greying skin were pale blue and in startling contrast to how healthy and flushed she'd always been before. She smelt awful, which was not at all like her, she loved bubble baths.

"Oh." He stated simply as he stared at the corpse of his Harleen Quinzel. Apparently he'd been away longer than he thought he had.

Well that was highly annoying. What was he to do now?

A strange pang rumbled in his belly, a foreign feeling that he wasn't sure he liked and hadn't felt for a very long time. He fought the sad frown that wanted to settle on his face not really understanding why it wanted to be there in the first place. Instead he pouted sulkily at the realisation he no longer had his favourite playmate around for all the fun ideas he'd cooked up whilst in Arkham. He was sure she would have enjoyed _some _of them. However, it did leave him with one astute and valuable judgement:

Perhaps locking Harleen up safely whilst he dealt with Gotham wasn't the best idea he'd had after all.

Or perhaps he'd just make sure there would be plenty of air holes next time.

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Probably not the best interpretation of the Joker but I gave it my best shot. Please review if you feel like it, I'd love to know what people think.


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